


I Looked and Behold

by MisMisto



Series: Hawke this, Hawke that [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Anders Needs a Hug, Angst and Humor, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Hawke Needs a Hug, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Isabela (Dragon Age) is a Good Friend, Mild Language, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Varric Tethras is a Good Friend
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:15:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22591615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisMisto/pseuds/MisMisto
Summary: ”I think he’s sick, Hawke. I think Justice is beginning to warp him into something he’s not and it’s going to get him in trouble.”Act 3. Set before, during and after the quest "Justice". Anders is missing, and Marian has the feeling that something is terribly wrong. So does everyone around her, it seems. A rework of a drabble of the same name, based on the course of events which Marian would later recall as "the zillionth time Isabela was right".
Relationships: Anders/Female Hawke, Female Hawke & Isabela, Female Hawke & Varric Tethras
Series: Hawke this, Hawke that [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1427413
Kudos: 6





	I Looked and Behold

**Author's Note:**

> Fancy seeing you here! There's not much action in this chapter: It's just Isabela and Varric worrying about the two lovebirds while Hawke doesn't realise she's at the brink of an anxiety attack. But then again, when have any of my fics had any significant action in them? Hope you enjoy regardless and let me know what you think!

It was a warm, deceptive early autumn’s afternoon in Kirkwall. The kind of weather that fools even veteran residents with its comforting humidity, garnering their trust into shedding layers to embrace the lingering fragments of summer that, as they would find out soon enough, have already left. Marian Hawke frowned over the steams rising from her cup of coffee, smiling slightly at the bartender’s attempt to make an impression of foamed milk floating at the top. She’d recently found out about Louis’, the Hanged Man’s most recent cook who is a Fereldan refugee of Orlesian descent, knack for making a mean cup of coffee which didn’t taste half bad, and certainly shook off her drowsiness, which was, while to some extent a by-product of Kirkwall’s fickle autumn winds, not exactly of a natural origin. 

“I know that look. Who are we hunting all the way to the other half of the city _today_?”

Marian grinned at Isabela sauntering towards her, seemingly unaffected with the end of summer judging by her usual boisterousness. But of course, who needs summer when you had her? Isabela caught her look and flashed her a pearly smile of her own and a wink, then sat next to Hawke, wrapping a warm arm around her.

“It’s Blondie again, actually.” she laid her head on Isabela’s shoulder. Isabela groaned in mock(ish)-annoyance, but nodded her head for her to continue, resting her cheek against Hawke’s head, “He hasn’t come home since yesterday night. Left in a rush, almost. Woke up when I heard the door shut.” She rubbed her eyes absently. “If I didn’t know he gets seasick I’d be convinced he’d finally ran off to Antiva with some exotic elven girl from the Rose.”

Isabela threw her head back and laughed, gaining amused snorts from the equally sleepy customers around her. “That’s what _you_ would have done, hun. Now that you mention it, didn’t _you_ have an elven sweetheart from the city’s most prosperous establishment?”

Marian shrugged in defeat. “Well, if you wanted an elaborate scenario you should’ve asked Varric.”

Isabela chuckled and rubbed Marian’s shoulder. “I think I’d like your version better anyways.”

“Much appreciated.” She grinned, slurped some of her coffee and kissed Isabela’s cheek before sitting up. “So,” She slapped away the pirate queen’s hands playfully when she tried fanning herself, instead occupying them with her cup of coffee. Isabela loved coffee, though she’d never admit to it, despite the entire squad knowing about it. “Today’s target, was last seen around 1 or 2 in the night, as he was fleeing from Hightown’s Amell estate, by an acute flash of inspiration that struck when he was in the bathroom, based on the reports of a certain elven witness who was, and I quote, ‘making calming tea after waking up from a nightmare’.”

She had waited to deliver the final sentence just as her friend was tipping the cup back and sipping the coffee. The result did not disappoint. Isabela burst into laughter, spilling some coffee in the meantime from the cup, her mouth and, possibly even her nose. “You’re telling me that our dear old Anders basically had the most awe-inspiring shit of his life?”

Marian was trying desperately to retain her narrator tone with little to no success, and the force of Isabela’s laughter started to sound almost painful. “Why yes, my dear friend, precisely so. Although I suspect he would be really upset if he heard a fair lady such as yourself put it that way.”

Isabela clutched her belly in an attempt to form a cohesive sentence. “Oh my god, did he say something like, like; **_Justice demands I discontinue my bodily plumbing activities to ensure the safety of all of Kirkwall! Fate awaits me beyond!_** ” she even tried scowling to make her best Blondie impression, but when her grin broke through every time she resorted to manually downturning her smile and frowning really very threateningly. Marian had to admit that the resemblance was uncanny.

“Honestly I’d prefer if he said something like that.” Hawke’s laugh trailed off. So did Isabela’s, eventually. She brushed her hair back from her face and tapped her fingers on the bar table rhythmically.

“He couldn’t have left the house running with his bare arse out without saying something, Marian.” She said after considering.

“Orana told me his arse was positively clothed, Isabela.” Hawke gave her a lopsided smile for her attempt. “And he’d said something about.. forgeting to do something urgent or whatever. By the time I’d reached the door he was already gone.”

Isabela’s brows furrowed, the thinnest line appearing between them that indicates that she has entered a thoughtful state; something that happens more often than anyone who wasn’t on close terms with the Rivaini pirate would ever guess, as her general appearance is that of someone obnoxious, crude and without a care in the world. Something which, Hawke had learned as she’d slowly slipped through the heavy curtains Isabela had drawn between her and the rest, was simply not true. “Any chance he’d assumed you wouldn’t have noticed his inconspicuous escape?”

It was Hawke’s turn to frown. “It was the middle of the night, and Anders of all people wouldn’t have made such a loud exit if he really didn’t want to be seen or heard. If he did, I would probably never had noticed anything odd and my sleep wouldn’t be absolutely ruined.”

“Then… Don’t suppose you’ve noticed anything wrong with him recently? More than usual, that is?”

Hawke was about to shrug off her remark before it dawned on her. She looked up at her in alarm. “You think he’s hurt?”

Isabela snorted. “Not if he manged to break his leg in the bathroom.”

“Well,” Marian peeked at her, “it’s not impossible.”

“True. But if you’re really considering it, maybe we need Varric for sounder ideas after all.”

Hawke gasped dramatically, clutching at the centre of her chest. “Ouch, Bela.”

“You can’t say I don’t give it to you straight, dear.”

“I can’t, so I need you to do _exactly_ that and tell me what’s on your mind.”

Isabela’s smile froze. She put the cup down silently. “You’re absolutely sure this is the first time he did this?”

Marian frowned. “You think he’s hiding something.” It wasn’t a question. Isabela had started to tap the bar table again. _No rhythm, erratic. Trouble._

“Isabela.” Hawke pleaded. “What is it?”

“He was muttering to himself the other day,” she said after a moment, eyes narrowed as she recalled. “When we were at the coast. You were.. rummaging your sack for some cloth or whatever, and the moment you did he snapped away from you, like he’d heard someone. I looked where he was looking but it was just the water. I was about to ask if he’d freaked out over a splash or something, but then I..” she frowned. “I noticed he was mumbling. I could barely hear it, let along make sense of anything, but it was fast and.. it sounded off.”

“Couldn’t it have been something about magic, or his book? I know most of all of that sounds gibberish to you.”

“I don’t think his face would be glowing and flickering if it was just about that bloody book.”

“Justice?” She asked silently. When Isabela looked at her again she felt it tighten and strain. “Isabela, what happened? What did he say?”

“He..” Isabela looked down at her hands and huffed, opting to let it out all at once. _Easier for her,_ Hawke remembered. “He didn’t say anything to me, but when he noticed me looking he snapped, and when he looked up at me his face stopped flickering and he just glowed.” Isabela’s face scrunched up. She shook her head slowly and her hands were clenched. “His hands were glowing, his arms were glowing, even the fucking veins in his neck were glowing, and his face was just..” She looked up at her. “I thought he was going to murder me right there, Marian.”

“Isabela, did-..”

“It’s okay.” She nodded, more to herself. “He didn’t do anything and it was just for a second, anyways. Then he was back to his old insufferable self, poking at everyone and being a gigantic arse like always. But then when we were about to move he pulled me aside and said I looked pale and asked if I was okay or if there was anything he could do, the _sorry_ bastard.”

“Maker.” she whispered, covering her mouth with her hand. She didn’t know what to say. Thankfully, Isabela saw that.

“That’s what I was afraid of.” She could feel her hurried breaths on her neck. Hawke noticed then that they’d snuggled closer in instinct. “This isn’t the first time this has happened, is it?”

Hawke looked distraught. “Anders told me he has some gaps in his memory when Justice came over him, but that it only happened when there was a dire threat, or when he was in danger. Something… like what you described happened earlier when we were having our usual fight about the ‘plight of mages’ and what we should do about it. It grew loud and he was pacing around the room and Tristan ran downstairs and.. I had forgotten all about it until you-..”

Isabela breathed in sharply. “Did he hurt you?”

“Isabela no, I-“

“ _Did he hurt you, Marian?_ ”

“No!” She gripped at her friend’s hands. “No! God no. Maker’s sake Isabela, I’m sorry. Fucking poor choice of words. I’m so sorry.”

Isabela looked at her with glassy eyes. “Bloody hell. The way you told it, I thought something happened.” She huffed, relieved. “Never mind what I said. You’re _almost_ as good as Varric.”

The coffee was cold now, and the fat from the milk was completely separated and lingering at the top. Hawke felt her adrenaline seep back into her stomach, leaving her hands trembling and cool. She noticed belatedly that the Hanged Man had been completely silent, and only now normal chatter had resumed. “If you said that any other time I would have taken it as a compliment. Now I just feel like an arse.”

The corner of her mouth quirked up slightly. “And that’s why we love you, Hawke.”

“Nearly gave me a heart attack there!”

“So did you!” Isabela raised her hands accusingly, blinking a little too hard, and ruffled Hawke’s hair to the point of utmost chaos to drive her point across.

“I love you _so much_.”

“Love you too, silly goose.” Isabela mumbled into the mess that was Hawke’s hair and rubbed her back. None of them knew when their brief quarrel turned into a bear hug, but they weren’t complaining. “So,” she finally said when they sat back down. “Now that that’s over, and I know I won’t need to stuff Blondie through a meat grinder and feed it to a fucking dragon, I assume he just glowed on you threateningly?”

“Basically,“ Hawke nodded after she, barely, recovered from her laughter, “Although it was more threatening to a lamp than it was to me.”

“He broke a bloody _lamp_?”

“Not intentionally,” Marian pondered, “he started glowing, we went on for a few more seconds and then the lamp exploded.”

“You-.. Wait, _what_?”

“Yeah. Wasn’t exactly his proudest moment.”

Isabela raised an eyebrow. “What ever _is_ his proudest moment, sweetheart?”

Hawke shrugged. “Probably when he convinced a Darktown mob that he was actually a magical bomb.”

“Ohhh. Yeah,” Isabela nodded, snorting at the memory, “Yeah. That’s probably it.”

“We’re getting side tracked here!” Hawke accentuated each word with a hurried tap on the bar table. “The point is, this happened before and when he was in no real danger whatsoever, and continued to happen with increasing frequency. Nothing like what you mentioned, though.”

Isabela looked away. “You should have told us.”

Hawke ran a hand through her hair absently. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

“More than we already are? It would’ve been nice to know what to look out for, before Justice or… whatever it is that snarled at me that day got me thinking that things are worse than I thought.”

Hawke sat back and crossed her arms. “Shoot.”

“I thought for a while maybe he was planning to do something stupid, like rouse up this large crowd, throw eggs at Templars, start a fight, make a giant mess, break his nose or something and we’d spend a whole day trying to break his arse out of jail.”

Hawke chuckled. “That doesn’t sound terribly unlikely. What do you think is happening now?”

Isabela paused. “I think he’s sick, Hawke. I think Justice is beginning to warp him into something he’s not and it’s going to get him in trouble.”

Marian could feel a knot forming inside her chest, all familiar and unwelcome. _Maybe that knot was always there. Maybe you try to ignore it, and the only time you notice it’s still there is when it tightens._

“I know.” She said, more to herself. Then once again after clearing her throat, stronger this time. “I know.”

“Hey,” Isabela held her hand, sandwiching it between hers and rubbing to warm her up. “If anyone could save someone from the verge of causing complete Armageddon, it’s you.”

Hawke smiled weakly. “I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“All that arguing has to have accomplished something, even with Blondie’s thick skull. Shame about the lamp, though.”

“It will be remembered fondly,” Hawke cracked her hands, handed Louis a tip and jumped down from her seat. “Now, let us get under way to ‘hunting down Blondie all the way to the other half of the city.’” She had reached the door until she heard a familiar voice behind them.

“Leaving without me? So that’s how it’s gonna be.” Varric crossed his arms and shook his head at the two. “I should’ve known.”

“Oh yes, Varric.” Hawke nodded slowly, then went on with her best villain voice, accentuating all the wrong syllables. “For six years I have masqueraded!.. as being part of your close circle of acquaintances, only to use!.. you for your boon of free watered down drinks and for daily viewings of your remarkable… chest hair.”

“Hey, can’t say I blame you.” He grinned, then checked Bianca over one last time. “I woke up to the sound of you two laughing and talking about tracking down Blondie. I’m guessing that’s what we’re doing today?”

“Yes. Long story short he ran outside in the middle of the night. He hasn’t returned and I didn’t see him in his clinic, nor in the docks.”

Varric frowned. “Trouble?”

Hawke looked at Isabela, and she nodded after a moment of thought. “Might be.”

“I’ll have some people keep an eye out for him in case he returns.” Varric nodded, unsheathing Bianca.

“And I asked Bodahn and Sandal to send a message if he comes back home.” Hawke cracked her fingers, like she always did when she formulated and finalized a possible course of action. “We’ll head to his clinic and ask around for any clues, head back to Hightown and get Fenris, go to the keep in case Aveline knows something, maybe go along the coast for a while, then if we still haven’t found him by then ..”

“We’ll find him, Hawke.” She felt Varric lay a hand on her arm. She turned and accepted his hug, warm and comforting. “Worst case scenario he forgot something back in the clinic, guards thought he was a thief snooping around in the dark, and him and Aveline are sulking in one corner and wondering where the hell we still are.”

Marian closed her eyes. “I hope you’re right this time.”


End file.
